Bloody Mary
by starbuckx
Summary: Draco Malfoy's 'first time' doesn't go exactly like planned.


**Story Title: Bloody Mary **

**Part 1/1**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine, sadly. Not that I've ever particularly wanted Draco, but he seems to be taking over. ::sighs:: JKR owns them. **

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Draco Malfoy liked to think he'd planned things perfectly.

Truth was, he'd been planning around this evening for a while. Not because of Pansy, she was just a comfortable enough partner in this thing, safe if you will, because he was not in any danger of actually caring about her feelings afterwards, but because he – as strangely as it sounded -- just wanted to get it over with.

He was sixteen years old, after all, way too old for second-hand stories about how it would feel. He was a Malfoy; he was supposed to be the one telling the stories, even if he had to make them up. If he was old enough to become a Death Eater -- the ever-present burning in his arm was more than enough proof of that -- he was old enough to know exactly what he would be missing if he went and got himself killed.

Not that he expected to die. The plan was good, sound. It would all come down soon enough: he would off Dumbledore and then run away, never to set foot in Hogwarts again.

So, this was a last chance, of sorts.

He'd secured the perfect location, the Room of Requirement, made out to look like a decadent and luxurious suite, the kind he expected a girl like Pansy would like. There was a heart-shaped bed in the middle, though he'd done away with the disgusting Gryffindor-red coverings. Mirrors were everywhere, on the walls around the bed, and even on the ceiling on top of the bed. A fireplace in the corner just added to the ambiance.

To top it all of heart shaped –balloons floated around the room, almost covering the celestial paintings depicting people in togas involved in activities Draco would rather not contemplate for now. He was too busy thinking about Pansy, and what was supposed to happen.

Not that he had any doubts about Pansy, not really. There wouldn't need to be that much convincing. Pansy was well aware of his standing, well aware of her own position in the world. She knew what the expectations were.

She was, after all, his girlfriend. He was quite sure she expected to remain that for a long time, but he'd hardly ever sat down to consider the future, and when he had, romantic considerations had not entered into it. More pressing affairs, like the enormous expectations The Dark Lord had thrust upon his shoulders and the constant worry about his father's well-being.

He wished he could convince himself that it was all going to work out. He had a plan, a good plan at that, and he was determined to follow it through, but he couldn't escape the notion that he was being set up to fail. And, for a brief moment, while standing in the middle of the Room of Requirement that was to play such an important role in his plans, it felt like he already had.

Pansy's arrival put any thoughts of these deep matters to rest.

She wasn't a terribly pretty girl, Draco considered as she looked around the room in awe, but she wasn't altogether undesirable either. Just a tad shorter than him, she stood at the perfect height to glance upon her bright green eyes and for his hands to circle her small waist. In every other respect she was merely an ordinary girl, but even if he wasn't madly in love with her, she pleased something within him.

"What do you think?" he asked of her, although he could see from her expression that she'd caught onto the meaning of this night well before getting here. There was a hint of perfume in the air, and her black hair seemed shiny and recently styled.

"I'm surprised, Draco Malfoy," she declared, but she didn't come any closer. "A girl might think you'd planned this."

He knew the game she was playing, but tonight he was in no mood for it.

"Come here," he urged, and she came willingly, her arms on his neck. Their lips met slowly, like an old ritual they knew by heart, tongues probing, teeth biting over lips and sounds escaping both of their lips in turn.

Without letting go he pushed her slowly towards the bed. He didn't calculate the distance well enough, however, and he was dipping her forward before they got to the bed. The floor met them roughly, and he cursed as they fell. Stupid room couldn't even produce a soft carpet for them to land on. He bruised easily, and this one he couldn't even blame on something fun.

To her credit, Pansy said nothing, just picked herself up the floor and sat down on the bed, eyeing him warily. He tried to get up gracefully, but his back was throbbing and he was forced to limp to the bed.

Once there, he stared at the large chandelier hanging from the ceiling until he felt the pain begin to subside. Pansy was sitting quietly in the corner of the bed, waiting for him. Slowly, he rolled over to where she was and kissed her once again.

She responded eagerly, and they kissed for a very long time. Time slowed to a sluggish crawl, and their hands stayed demurely on each other's backs. On the wall, an ancient-looking clock, which if Draco knew about it, would be horrified to learn was an exact replica of one that hung in the Weaseley's kitchen, was pointing to 'GET ON WITH IT!' while they continued to kiss, blessedly unaware.

Pansy was the one who took the first step. Pushing him away slightly, she started to undress slowly, and Draco was transfixed with the notion that she actually knew much more about this than he did. Her eyes were bright and her hands certain as she opened the buttons of her blouse slowly, only to reveal a cream-coloured bra.

His eyes were drinking her in, and yet he couldn't seem to manage movement. She paused when her shirt was off, clearly waiting for something, but when she got no response, she shrugged almost imperceptibly and proceeded to get rid of her school skirt.

Whatever it was that was preventing movement left at the sight of her matching underwear. Suddenly he was on top of her, hands roughly grasping her breasts, pressing her against him as his hand founds its way inside her underwear.

She gasped, and Draco fancied it felt as good for her as it did for him. Her arms snaked their way around his neck and he held on tightly, and he started was suddenly overcome with the need to throw her back onto the bed and just bury himself within her. He supposed it was his duty to try to pleasure her, though, so he tried to rein in his fantasies and let his hand do the work.

"Don't you want to, you know …" she asked after a while, a barely suppressed shudder in her voice, and he was tremendously pleased to be able to stop. He'd had a hard time maneuvering.

He nodded, and said nothing further as he laid her down on the bed. She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, and he thought she might be a little scared. It was supposed to hurt girls, after all. He felt a wave of tenderness and kissed her. He'd try to be gentle.

Moving back, he removed his clothes quickly. He'd been suspecting it, because of how dreadful that attempt at pleasing her had been for him, but he was nowhere near where he needed to be.

He took a deep breath, and pushed the image of Pansy away from his head, tried to concentrate on an old issue of _PlayWitch_ he'd particularly enjoyed, or any of his unfulfilled fantasies, but found nothing was doing the trick. He felt ready to kick something. What the hell was wrong?

"I think you must just need a bit more attention," a voice whispered slowly as Pansy grasped the top of his boxers. He felt a wave of conflicting emotions engulf him. He was embarrassed, but also slightly grateful that she seemed to be taking things so calmly, that she wanted to be with him enough to take things this way.

She kissed him hard, and suddenly she was on top of him, moving, softly kissing the spot where shoulder meets chest, hands exploring his body. He took a deep breath, and a moan escaped his lips. His problem seemed to be …subsiding, or growing as it were.

He let her kiss him till he felt himself ready. Roughly, he pushed her away and took possession of her mouth for a moment, then rolled her over so she was on her back once again.

Her legs felt awfully heavy as he positioned them over his shoulders, and pushed forward. There was a barrier, something preventing him from going through, and she was screaming now, presumably with pleasure. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, he couldn't be hurting her yet.

She was shaking her head now, her knuckles white from grasping the heavy mattress. He didn't know what the problem was. It would be kind of stupid to just look down and see if he was going the right way, so he just took a deep breath, moved his hips and positioned himself over her once again.

It all felt blessedly warm and altogether brilliant, he thought, even though she was screaming like a banshee. His hands went to her hips, almost without conscious thought, and he started moving faster, harder against her, and he could set a rhythm by her screams alone, and his chest started to feel heavy, his stomach contracting, and the pleasurable sensation was spreading through him and he knew what was coming, could clearly see it, and he tried to stop it, but he was powerless to as his body collapsed and she stopped screaming once and for all.

Shame helped him recuperate faster. He groaned, as quietly as he could, and tried to push away the certainty that this night couldn't have gone any worse. Pansy would surely be disappointed – and girls …girls talked, didn't they? He couldn't let this story get out, not if he hoped to maintain his position in Slytherin.

He considered his options. Blackmail could work, but it wasn't a totally fool-proof technique. Asking nicely was just out of the question. Magic was about the only option he had left. He couldn't afford to let this story get out. Magic and a lot of practice to make sure this didn't happen again.

"Pansy," he tried to keep his voice soothing and soft, as he pulled out his wand. "Come closer." He tried to think of all the words he was supposed to say, and his mind came awfully short of terms of endearment. So he stopped pretending.

"_Obliviate_," he said, with a flick of his wand, and Pansy's eyes went glassy.

He nodded, put away his wand and then started shaking her as if she'd passed out from sheer bliss, or something.

"Pansy….Pansy, wake up. Are you okay?"

She shook her head and nodded, but her expression was vacant. "What happened? I mean …did we …eh," She'd obviously noticed the lack of clothing. "I mean, of course we did …it's just that I…"

"I know," he said with a shrug. "I guess I have that effect."

She was covering herself up with a blanket, and she seemed oddly vulnerable in the low lights. "How was it?" she asked, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Best night of my life," he lied convincingly, as he pressed a quick kiss against her parted lips. "You wore me out, that's for sure. But hey, you seemed to be enjoying it too…"

She nodded, smiling. "It's all hazy right now, but I'm sure I did."

Draco rested his head against the headboard, and pulled her to him. It was another one of those 'expected' things, and amazingly, he felt oddly comforted by her warm presence against him as his mind started to wander once again over what the future would bring.

_The End_

_A/N: So - yeah. Draco likes me. He wants me to write him, and stuff like that. I quite enjoy it, too. Weird. Marian, I know you're around here somewhere - so guess what? I'm dedicating a Draco fic to you. ;)  
_


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